


Save A Prayer

by octothorpetopus



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Bisexual Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr., Bisexual Rafael Barba, Catharsis, Catholic Character, Catholic Guilt, Churches & Cathedrals, Episode: s17e18 Unholiest Alliance, Hurt Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr., Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, POV Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr., Pining Rafael Barba, Prayer, Pre-Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr., Religious Conflict, Sweet Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-07 19:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20822597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octothorpetopus/pseuds/octothorpetopus
Summary: Carisi has spent so long separating himself from his work, and for so long, it's worked. But it had to stop working eventually, and that's why he's sitting in church instead of celebrating with his friends. Fortunately, there's one person who knows just where to find him, and that might be the only person who can help him.





	Save A Prayer

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a minute since I had enough inspiration for a barisi fic, but it hit while I was watching some of my old favorite Barba episodes. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and as always, I read and appreciate all comments and feedback. -C

Carisi's knees feel like they might give out at any moment. He feels as though he has been kneeling for hours, and he has. The last traces of sun shining through St. Fabiola's stained glass windows disappeared long ago, leaving him lit only by candlelight. Over and over again, behind his closed eyelids, he replays scene after scene, mentally chastising himself. He did his job, he knows this, but still, he can't stop from blaming himself, for saying what he said to Fin, to Barba, to Father Eugene. He doesn't regret taking down the Monsignor, but today is Saturday. Tomorrow will be Sunday, and he will go to his parents' house for dinner, like he does every week, only this time, his parents will have seen the news. They support him, they support his job, but they are Catholic first and foremost. And although they'd never admit it, he knows they will resent him for making the church look bad. Hell, he resents himself for it. It would have been easier if he'd stayed with Homicide, or if he'd transferred to Vice or Narcotics or anything, anything except SVU.

And then he hates himself for saying that. Because the work he does is important, and he is good at it, and he is fighting for those who no one else will fight for. There is no higher calling, isn't that what his father said to him the day he started at the police academy?

But that is not the worst of it. He cannot even touch the worst of it. The sex trafficking scandal is bad, yes, but for him, it's a regular Tuesday. The worst of it is what he could not bring himself to admit to Father Eugene, what he can't bring himself to admit every week in confession, what he can't admit even to himself, what he has never said out loud for fear of... of what?

He almost did it, is the odd thing. He was so close to saying it, to just coming out with the words, the words he doesn't even know.

_"You can't imagine how many times I've knelt and prayed to be relieved of this weakness!"_

_"Yes, I can."_

It would have been so easy then. And looking at Father Eugene, looking into his eyes, filled with the same pain and turmoil that Carisi had felt as long as he could remember, he almost had. Why hadn't he? Fear, he supposed. Fear of being told that he was anything other than what he had always told himself he was: a good Catholic, who abides by the rules he's supposed to abide by, who thought he was going to be a priest until he was 11, who has never missed a week of mass. So he'd stayed silent, tried to keep himself out of the situation. He shut that last bit of shame and darkness away in the same box he's kept it in since he was a child. But now, he kneels again in the well-worn pews, clenching the rosary so tightly in his fists that his knuckles are white. His lips move silently in words he's not even sure he still understands. He's alone, and he's glad. There is no one to witness him break.

He is so within his own head that he does not hear the heavy wooden doors of the church swing open and shut. He does not hear the heavy footsteps falling down the center aisle until they are right behind him, and by then, it's too late.

"I thought maybe I'd find you here." His head snaps up, startled. Generally, he doesn't have to look up to see Barba, who stands at least four inches shorter than him, but kneeling low in these pews, he's- well, first of all, he's at probably the worst possible height you can talk to another person, especially one that- well, that's not the point.

"Am I that predictable?" Carisi asks, trying his best to breathe steadily despite his irregular heartbeat.

"Is it bad if I say yes?" Barba cracks a smile. He shifts from foot to foot, his eyes flicking around the room, never lingering too long on any one thing.

"What are you doing here? I thought for sure you'd be toasting Monsignor Mulregan's downfall at the Beekman." He's joking, but there is a bitter edge to his voice.

"I was, but I was thinking about that conversation we had earlier. Thought maybe someone should check in on you. Rollins had to go home, so... here I am."

"How'd you know I'd be here?" Carisi rises to his feet, wincing a little as his knees creak.

"C'mon, Carisi, you're a dyed-in-the-wool Catholic cop that just wrapped up a case investigating a sex trafficking ring operated by high-ranking members of the church. From there it was just a matter of figuring out which church you were at." He gestures to the side with his briefcase. "Scoot over. Let me sit down." He sits in the aisle seat next to Carisi, and they stare straight ahead at the dimly-lit altar. Carisi's hands fidget in his lap. "So, are you... okay?"

"Am I okay?"

"Yeah, are you okay?"

"I mean, no, but... how could I be? I've never had a case that made me question everything I've ever believed in before, Rafael." He turns to look, and he meets Barba's eyes. "Even when I worked in homicide, when I saw things that made my skin crawl, it never made me feel the way that this case made me feel. And Father Eugene, I- well, that was just... a lot. A lot to take in."

"Understandably. This was a tough case, Carisi, for all of us. This is the first time I've been in a church in probably thirty years, and it still hit me in a way I didn't think anything I saw with this unit could hit me anymore." Barba taps the forefinger of his right hand against his knee.

"There's that, but, I don't know, there's just somethin' else. Don't worry about it." His eyes snap to the crucifix hanging over the altar, and when they find Barba's again, he's looking at Carisi thoughtfully.

"What?"

"Don't- you would- you wouldn't get it."

"Without sounding too clichéd, try me." Carisi thinks for a moment. Should he say something? It's pushing at him to get out, burning. It hurts, physically. And it's not like Barba is going to tell him he's going to hell. None of the squad would. He knows that, and the logical side of him keeps telling him that everything will be so much easier once he just says the words. But the irrational side, the illogical side, that side will not stop telling him that the second he opens his mouth, he will lose this family that took him so long to find. But it's like Barba is this magnet, and he is pulling the words out of Carisi. Slowly, haltingly, but they're coming.

"When we found out about Father Eugene's... secret, I was shocked. But when I talked to him, and he told me how he felt..." Carisi's head falls so that he's staring at the tiled floor. "That was the first time I've ever talked to someone... someone like me about, y'know..."

"About being what, catholic and gay?"

"I'm- I'm not gay. I've had girlfriends, and I think I really did love them, but..." He looks up, and there are tears in his eyes, but he does not meet Barba's.

"Carisi..." He feels a hand rest on his shoulder. "I had no idea."

"I've never told anyone. Never. I've never even said it out loud before." Barba squeezes his shoulder before letting his hand fall between them, his pinkie just barely brushing Carisi's thigh.

"I'm bisexual," he says, his eyes fixed on a point just beyond the physical plane. "I've said it before, but it's different in a church. There's a reason I haven't been here in thirty years, and that's because for the first eighteen years of my life, this church was used to bury my very existence. I'm proud of who I am now, but being back here, I feel it again. Carisi, there are people who will tell you you’re wrong for everything you do. For... for eating meat. For being a cop. For liking men. There will always be people who disagree with the simple fact of your existence, and that doesn’t make them right, and that doesn’t make them justified, but they will always be there. I wish I could tell you they won’t and I wish I could protect you from the hate and the pain that comes with being someone like us. But if you believe god makes all of us in his image, you have to believe this is how he made you, and therefore you can’t be wrong. You are exactly how you’re meant to be.”

”That was... legit poetic.”

”I try.” Carisi smiles sadly.

”You know, I don’t think you’ve ever been that nice to me before.”

”You seemed like you needed it.”

”I did,” Carisi says, and lets out a shaky breath. “I did, and now... I’m- I guess, anyway- I’m bisexual.” He laughs a little hysterically. “I’m bisexual! I’ve never said it out loud before, and now I’m saying it for the first time in a Catholic church.”

”I’m... proud of you. If that’s not too weird to say.”

”It’s not.” And slowly, tentatively, Carisi slides his hand off his leg, and rests it on top of Barba’s. “Thank you,” he whispers, and that’s when Barba kisses him. It’s a gentle, soft kiss, barely enough to even register, but it happens. Carisi expects himself to pull back, to stare at Barba in wide-eyed shock, but he doesn’t. He leans into it, deepening the kiss. It is a real kiss now, not two kids playing spin the bottle at a sleepover. His trembling hand, the one not resting on top of Barba’s, comes up to run through his hair. Barba is the one to break the kiss, breathing heavily. Their foreheads knock together, a little too hard for comfort, but they don’t move.

”I didn’t think you-“

”Neither did I,” Carisi replies without giving him a chance to finish. He doesn’t need to finish. They both know what is meant.

”Are you ready to go?” Carisi gives one last glance to the altar, to the gold and red candles there, to the stained glass windows and the enormous wooden crucifix.

”Yeah,” he says, and means it, intertwining his fingers with Barba’s as they stand. “I am.”


End file.
